Take Up The Tale!

I have at last begun a project, often postponed, to take up the tale of the old Arthurian legends and make my own ballad version of ‘the matter of Britain’ which is what the old poets called the cycle of legends concerning King arthur and the knights of the round table, and supremely, the legend of the holy grail. My poem will be called ‘Merlin’s Isle’ and I have begun ‘ In Medias Res’, in the midst of things with the story of Galahad and the Holy Grail. I have also written a little preface or invocation for the longer poem called ‘Take Up the Tale, and, by way of appetiser, here it is. As always you can hear me read it by clicking on the title or the play button

Take Up The Tale

Take Up The Tale

 

As I walked out one morning

All in the soft fine rain

It seemed as though a silver veil

Was shining over hill and vale

As though some lovely long-lost spell

Had made all new again

 

And through that shimmer in the air

I seemed to hear a sound

As though a distant horn were blown

in some lost land that I had known

That seemed to speak from tree and stone

And echo all around.

 

And with the music came these words:

‘Poet, take up the tale!

Take up the tale this land still keeps

In earth and water magic sleeps

The dryad sighs, the naiad weeps

But you can lift the veil.

 

 

 

From where the waves wash Cornwall’s caves

Out to the white horse vale

The lands still hold the tale of old

Like hidden treasure, buried gold

Once more the story must be told

Poet take up the tale.

 

Tell of the king who will return

Tell of  the holy grail

Tell of old knights and chivalry

Tell of the pristine mystery

Of Merlin’s Isle of gramaryre

Poet take up the tale.

 

Take up the tale of courtesy

Take up the tale of grace

Revive the lands’ long memory

Summon the fair folk, let them be, 

something of faery, wild and free

Still lingers in this place

 

 

 

Lift up your eyes to see the light

On Glastonbury Tor

Then come down from that far green hill

To where the sacred waters spill

And shine within the chalice well

And listen to their lore.

 

Yea, listen well before you start,

Be still ere you begin

See through the surface round about

The noise, the rush, the fear, the doubt

Though Modern Britain lies without

Fair Logres lives within

 

You may yet walk through Merlin’s isle

By oak and ash and thorn

The ancient hills do not forget

And you might wake their wisdom yet

Who knows what wonders might be met

On this midsummer morn.’

 

So I have taken up the tale

To tell it full and free

The tale that makes my heart rejoice

I tell it, for I have no choice

I tell it till another voice

Takes up the tale from me.

 

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